


And a dead guy

by kaige68



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, F/M, fandomless - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/pseuds/kaige68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> It was a need to pee that woke her up.  Desperate need.  She fought it as it came on, fought it until there was a chance she wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom.  </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a dead guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatwasJustaDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/gifts).



> Slow Sated Sunday prompt: _"I can't think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone and not remembering their name. Or how you met. Or why they're dead."_
> 
> This is my response.

It was a need to pee that woke her up. Desperate need. She fought it as it came on, fought it until there was a chance she wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom. 

She threw back the covers and the cold temp of the room hit her. “Mother of God!” She sat up and closed her eyes at the dizzy and nausea that hit her, making the urgency in her bladder even louder. Peeking out only one eye she spied a counter top and sink. _Bathroom. YAY!_ Standing slowly she made her way in. 

Not bothering to fish for a light switch, she spied the commode in the dim light that came in and hit the mirror. And a moment later, utter relief. Even her head felt better as she shivered on the bowl. Everything feels better after that.

She looked around the room. Fancy-ish, but nothing that said décor. White towels, plastic trash liner in a white bin. Must be a hotel. Which would explain why the bed had been so uncomfortable. Why it felt like knives stabbing into her back.

No idea what hotel. A cold one, certainly not one she plunked into alone and drunk. She was always cold, she wouldn’t have cranked the A C. Which, of course, meant that there was someone out there, in the bed. Or maybe there had been. He might have already left. She loved it when they’d already left.

She looked in the mirror, bracing herself to go out into the main part of the hotel room. Yeah, that oughta scare the bears away. “Hey hon,” she called out as she opened the door fully. “I was just-“

Her eyes focused on the bed and they widened painfully at the sight. A pale fat man was on his back in the space next to where she’d been. Way pale. Too pale. Pale enough that the large spot of red on the bedding was probably blood and not an aesthetic choice on the hotel’s part.

“Shit!” His eyes stared at the ceiling. “Fuck!” His mouth was open as if he were screaming. “ShitFuck!” 

She scrambled. Moved toward him and reeled back. Should she check to see if he were actually dead? It could be a joke. Jello might stain like that. She rounded to the other side of the bed, shaking from the cold and revulsion. She took a deep breath. And then another. She extended a finger toward his neck, her eyes squinting and teeth gritted as if that would make a difference. She had no idea where to even check for a pulse but she pulled back and jumped when his skin was as cold as the room. 

Doing a horrified dance in the space between the bed and the wall she decided it wasn’t enough. She slapped his arm with a small squeal. Nothing. She did it again. Nope. She smacked his balding head. Cold and responseless. “FuckShitFuck!”

She dashed back to her side of the bed. Found her underwear, shoes, skirt. “Where’smyshirtwhere’smyshirtwhere’smyshitfuckshirt?” She moved some of his clothes and began to dress. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” Her purse was under the bed. There was a wallet on the desk, and he wasn’t going to need it, so the cash was hers. There were two sets of keys, hers and his, and well, his fob was keyless entry and he wasn’t driving soon, so she grabbed both.

Reasonably together she sprinted for the door. Hangover and back pain long forgotten. She should stay, call 911. She looked at his body, not remembering any of the night before when she’d asked the bartender for _something blue and keep ‘em coming._ Not a single thing. She probably didn’t kill him. Probably. He wasn’t going to be less dead if she called. And a keyless entry… Nissan was waiting for her. 

She opened the door to step out into the hall and almost collided with the uniformed man on the other side.

“I’m so sorry Missus Johnson. Your husband asked that breakfast be brought up at 7 and-“

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great thanks.” She pushed the guy out of the way and shoved the trolley into the room. “He’s a little shy, and I have to run down to the car for a minute. “ She pressed a twenty into his hand and closed the door. 

“Is everything alright, Missus Johnson?” 

_Missus? Mother of ShitFuck!_ “Um yeah, I ummm…” She looked at the plain band on her left hand with a matching diamond. “I… uh… left my diaphragm in the car.” And that embarrassed him enough to leave her alone. 

She headed for the elevators. East. Yeah, she’d never been east before.


End file.
